CONSUMED. by avaris
Some men make fortunes, but not to enjoy them; for, consumed by avarice, they live to make fortunes

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A Biography of Cancer

(Siddharta Mukherjee)




[ current anime ]

---


Sunday, May 23, 2004

Are Sundays especially sunny days?

Interesting question. I certainly feel that way.

I need to gripe. No surprise there, for I think the most consistent theme of my entries is my complaining about some vastly irritating fact or other of life. Complaining, to be sure, can be called a "uniquely Singaporean" trait, for it certainly does seem that Singaporeans have no qualms about voicing their dissatisfaction with everything, be it the government, foreign workers, fellow Singaporeans or just the weather. And I don't even want to get started on the "uniquely Singapore" farce of a tourism booster (due to the rather significant fact that any T, D or H can give a dozen reasons why it is stupid, so why do I need to bother with trying to demolish something that cannot stand in the first place?).

So guess how frustrated I am. Ooh, look, Kinokuniya is having a 20% discount offer this weekend! This is the perfect chance for me to get that FMA guide book I saw on Wednesday but did not want to buy because it costs a whopping twenty dollars, for something the size of a slightly large pocket. Or so I thought. As you can infer, I made a trip down to Taka today to try to get my hands on that book, and also because the weather was just so awfully warm, that I end up saying stupid-sounding things like "I'm so hot!" because my brain cannot process the potential self-praising nature of that statement, and use "I'm so warm!" instead. Thus, the heat-warped brain seeks a comfortable air-conditioned environment, of which Taka is the prime example.

Although this nineteen year old born and bred Singaporean can say that he has gotten to the point where he is unlikely to be shocked by things such as seeing hordes of other Singaporean thronging the aisles of a bookstore, I was rather surprised by the sheer number of people at Kino, where every queue for the cashier had at least twenty or thirty people, each with a huge pile of books in their arms. Despite the display of unique Singaporean-ness, it was rather heartening to see so many book lovers making good use of the offer.

What made my shock worse was getting to the Japanese comics section and discovering that the book was not there. I went to the counter to inquire, and it seems that all copies of the book have been sold, even in the Liang Court outlet. What a terrible disappointment. I made an order for the book, but it will take at least three to four weeks to arrive, and that really irritates me, when I think that I could have purchased it just four days ago. It seems I have grossly underestimated the appeal of FMA, even if it is a book in Japanese. Hopefully, the book will arrive before the discount coupons expire.

Having gotten nothing for my trip, I decided not to go home straight away, and thus I went looking for a chair, which I found on the fifth storey, just outside the library, which was rather crowded too. I sat there for about two hours, reading Infinite Jest, which was not a particularly rewarding endeavour since I was terribly distracted by people walking by, as well as irritated by couples who would sit on the same bench and act as if I was not present or that I am blind. It just about drove me mad, trying not to openly stare at these people, which is a reflex attributed to my curious (or simply kaypoh, to say it as it is) nature.

On the way home, I had the pleasure of getting on a bus headed for Serangoon Road (of course you realise that it is nothing near pleasurable, and that I am being sarcastic) and nearly dying of the Eau de Bangla on the bus. Terrible. The smell is something you eventually get used to, though, and it is nothing as bad as what happened to me on a bus to Tiong Bahru some months ago. That was one truly traumatising incident.

And when I got home, I realised that I had forgotten to bring my keys out. Grrr.

------------------------------

On another note, I am glad that readers out there find my last entry bringing back many fond memories of the so-weird-they're-lovable teachers of RJC. Which is the reason why I find MQ trainings so enjoyable, since the juniors tell you silly things that the lecturers do. Apparently Ms C-- is doing a lot more teaching for S03 people this year, so there are a tonne of interesting tidbits about her. It certainly does seem, however, after some comparing of notes, that teachers have certain lines that they use batch after batch, without fail. After all, you can't really expect them to have an entire fresh repertoire of cunning comments every batch.

For example:

Ms C-- (she of the snapping elastic band): "Let X be the random variable erh. Must write in full, random variable, erh. Cannot write short form, r.v., erh. R.V. can stand for random velocity erh. Or river valley erh. Don't be lazy erh."

Ms C-- (she who looks like Snow White's stepmother): "I am surprised that some people do not know the difference between fission and fusion. Fission sounds more violent, yes? So it must be a splitting reaction, yes? Perhaps there is a problem with your pronunciation?"

It seems to me all very perverse of the teachers, that they might actually lie in their beds at night secretly praying that just one, oh please just one student will make that mistake so they can pull out that line that they think is so clever, patting themselves on the back, saying oh L-- P-- what a terribly clever line; the students will all be so impressed with your cunning wit! That they might actually set questions regarding the definition of fission, and pray that students will get it wrong, so they can cleverly point this mistake out.

But no, of course not. Teachers do not really pray for mistakes, i think, since they can actually comment on common mistakes without having seen them being committed, for after all these are common mistakes. Sometimes during tuition I am somewhat pleased to see my student make certain mistakes. After all, learning is largely done through knowing why you are wrong.

----------------------------

I was sort of musing about the term "reflexology". The Oxford English Dictionary tells me that reflexology refers to massage to areas of the soles of feet. Amazing. I never realised that reflexology is a term dedicated to the foot, considering that its roots are reflex and logy, which probably makes its obvious meaning "the study of reflexes". It was thus quite amusing to think of why foot reflexology got its name i.e. from the reflexive actions people have to having their soles kneaded and poked and rubbed.

"Erm, this is my first time here, so please go gentl-AAAAAAAAOOWRGH! Is it supposed to feel like tha-RAAAAAARRRAAAG! That hurt-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAH Please, less for-NOOOOOOOOOOO! AAAARGH! EEEEEK! OHMYGOODNESSTHISISMADNESSAAAAAAAARGH!"

Of course you can visualise the violent bodily reactions to foot massage i.e. back arching, writhing, hitting chair with closed fists, pulling hair etc. Quite amusing indeed.

Avaris / 5/23/2004 11:58:00 PM

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